


A Hot Red Tide

by PAW_07



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Rescue Bots
Genre: I'm Going to Robot Hell for This, Implied Mpreg, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other, Robot Sex, Self-Hatred, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 01:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6932347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PAW_07/pseuds/PAW_07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High Tide knew he had to clean up this young bot's mess. No one wants a heat epidemic or a courtship battle if it can be helped. Its fraggen annoying for one and certainly isn't going to happen on his ship!</p><p>But maybe he can be a little selfish about this. Just this once. Its not like he can have sparklings anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hot Red Tide

**Author's Note:**

> 5/24/2016 - I noticed how badly proofread this was. Made some edits.

Swirling around like hot red pride,

Red becomes the water, the tides.

Let it wash over you, close your eyes,

And then you'll be mine.

...

High Tide groaned as he rubbed his shoulder plating, feeling like the sea had gotten a hold of him and thrown him against the rocks a few dozen times. He had thought his armor had ached when dealing with the first batch of rescue bots. Now, his armor was all but itching at this point. Frag, two more. Optimus had somehow found two more rescue bots to rattle his patience.

Apparently, they at least had finished some preliminary trials with the original rescue bots and now they were heading his way for some more in depth training and discipline on water rescues. There had been some emphasis on the discipline part though.

Heatwave had wanted to strangle one of them apparently.

High Tide chuckled at the thought.

Turning his attention to the shore he was drawing nearer and nearer to, he witnessed a group of six mechs on the docks. One of them was waving like an idiot. It was probably the orange one. Well, speak of Unicron and he would appear as the saying goes. Maybe he could just play ill and get out of this whole thing. He honestly was feeling a little down trodden.

Then again, watching Heatwave cross his arms and frown at him even at this distance, he didn't want to give the firetruck the satisfaction. He might have learned a lesson or two from the rescue bots, but his pride still stung a little.

Apparently, Heatwave's did as well.

...

Two groons! That was _it_. Two _groons_ in and High Tide was sure he was going to strangle the purple one. Blurr or whatever the frag his designation was. He was going to tie him to the mast and let the sea-birds have him.

“What did I say, recruit? One more mishap and you'll be swabbing the deck! Just stand the frag still! Have you no balance boy?!” barked High Tide as he watched the young mech fail to balance on the wave board. He had learned from the _Boulder incident_ that it was best to have a little practice before throwing new-mechs in the water to swim … or surf in this case. Though honestly it was more like sink at this point.

Jumping off the board, peds clanking loudly on the deck, the young mech pulled his plating close, EM field pulling in close as well. “Stop yelling at me! I'm trying, _okay_. I-I'm just so … so _itchy_ and _hot_ and I cant fraggen _concentrate_!”

High Tide growled, opening his mouth as if to bark some more at the little fool. He wasn't in the mood for excuses.

“I think I'm coming down with something, actually. All my joints are aching and my protoform feels like it is swelling, and its just so fraggen _itchy_!” whined the speedster as he started scratching at joints. “Its this organic planet, isn't it? I got some horrible organic disease, _don't I?_ My plating is going to start falling off, isn't it? _Isn't it_!”

The small purple mech was two nano-klicks from a hysterical fit. High Tide, not in the mood for such a bloody waste of time, suddenly grabbed and threw the mop's bucket water all over the young mech with a resounding splash. Blurr immediately gasped, his plating hissing as steam started curling off of him.

Hide Tide's optics brightened in surprise.

Frag, was the kid really overheating? Yes, it was high noon this time of day, but he certainly shouldn't be this hot unless … _Frag_ , did he say his protoform was swelling?

Recognition hit the old sea-mech like a Decepticon front-liner.

“Frag a sailor sideways!” growled the ship-mech. “This is not happening. Not on my ship.”

Stomping forward, ready to put a stop to this here and now, Blurr became spooked at the aggressive behavior from High Tide and took a step back in surprise. The young mech nearly jumped out of his armor though when he suddenly felt the large servo of Salvage stall him. Turning his helm, the young mech saw that his partner was frowning just as hard as High Tide was. He didn't even get to question the behavior though when he felt a scan fall over him, High Tide now towering over him like a great cliff. He literally jumped when the mech started swearing, suddenly putting a hand out and right over the smaller mech's vents to check his temperature physically.

“Unicron's underside,” growled the sea-mech as he pulled his hand away. “You are going into heat, aren't you?”

Blurr nearly jolted into the air, his vocals squeaking, “What? _No I am not!_ I can't be. I'm just overheating because of the sun or something. Its not a heat cycle.”

Salvage, frowning, reached forward and felt the younger mech's vents as well. He even rubbed a thumb over a seam in the purple mech's plating, trying to feel the protoform below. It was engorged. Merciful Primus, how had he not noticed that?

Shaking his helm, knowing it was best not to deny these things lest they get out of hand, Salvage agreed with their cranky instructor. “I think he's right Blurr. You seem to be going into a carrier heat. Not too surprising given how long we were in stasis. Long stasis can do that, you know. You see your frame collected minerals generally needed for daily activity and repair. Completely normal, but it also did this while you were in stasis. So, the whole time we were in stasis, never moving, those materials collected as extra resources on your protoform … which can force early heat cycles.”

Blurr … looked horrified, his plating pulling in close as he took a step back from the two older mechs. He couldn't help but shake his helm in denial, his voice nearly hysterical as he whined, “No, no, no, no, no! H-heat? Like in a courtship fight and claiming heat?! No, no, no, no! I don't want to end up heavy! I'm way too young! I'm _too_ young! And I don't want just any mech fragging me! ”

The young purple mech looked like he was two klicks from jumping off of the deck and into the water below if only to escape the other mechs there. In essence, if he didn't pick a mech soon to basically fill his carrying chamber with nanites, he would go into heat regardless. The pheromones, if left unchecked, would cause other mechs to fall into a haze and then a courtship battle would occur in Blurr didn't choose one before his own haze. In that case, the last mech standing would prove himself worthy to be a sire and then he could claim the heated mech. At that point both carrier mech and hazed mech would be so far gone that they would frag into abandon until the mech in heat went into a stupor, his carrying chamber full.

Heats were rare, but occurred more often in smaller mechs or speedersters than large heavy frames.

“Its okay, Blurr,” said Salvage, the larger mech trying to touch his partner's arm and steer him away from the railings. “Heat happens. This is your first one, right? Just calm down and vent-”

“Don't fraggen touch me!” cried Blurr, slamming against the railing, his EM field now coming off as panic-stricken. “You just want to frag me! No one is going to frag me!”

High Tide watched in silence for a klick as Salvage tried to calm his younger partner. This really shouldn't be surprising. The two mechs had been in stasis since before the war, even before the rescue bots by an astronomical amount. He didn't know why the young bot looked two seconds from a melt down. This really wasn't that surprising.

It was still irritating though.

“Calm down,” growled High Tide, already bored with this. “For one, it just wouldn't be any mech fragging you. It would probably be me, recruit. I am the only trained soldier in a fifty mile radius. The courtship fight would be mine.”

Blurr looked like he was two klicks from purging, his thighs instinctively pulling closed. High Tide rolled his optics at the action, adding, “Not that there is going to be one. If this is your first heat, a heat suppressant should work. I think I have a few vials for your class size. We should probably give you one as well scrapper-”

“It's Salvage.”

“-given you have been sleeping on the job just as long.”

One leg over the railing, the purple young mech ready to jump in despite Salvage's actions to try and keep him aboard, the purple mech stalled in his escape. Vocals still shaking, Blurr carefully asked, “W-what? I-I'm not going to get fragged?”

Huffing his vents, High Tide shook his helm. “Let's thank the tides for that, young bot. Anything coming out of you would likely be as landlocked as you are.”

Blurr took a moment to at least look insulted.

“Now, hold your cod piece in place for a few klicks. I'll go get the suppressant. Lets just hope you didn't cause any of those rescue bots inland to go off as well. You know how the saying goes, heats always happen in pairs.”

…

High Tide grumbled and sat down on his berth. It had been a hard fraggen orn. Any more than a week and he would have killed them, especially after the heat escapade. The speeder kept skirting around him as if he was going to jump the young bot right then and there, fragging him into the deck. Pff, what? He had been honest when he had told the young-mech that he would be the one winning the courtship battle. Maybe Heatwave could have put up a fight or Chase with his battle computer, but he doubted it. He had killed mechs with these hands. He had snuffed out sparks and held young recruits as they faded into gray.

He knew fights and blood and death...

Not that courtship battles usually lasted that long or were that violent, but High Tide wanted to know life better than he did death. He really did. He would have loved to have let Blurr drag it out. He would have gladly allowed pheromones to take over their instincts, stirring sire-mechs into battle ready hazes. Then, showing Heatwave his place, he would have captured that young mech's lips in his own and then right there on the deck he would have pushed the purple mech down, spreading his thighs and taking him for all to see.

It would be wonderful to make a life … Instead of taking one.

He had … always wanted one. A sparkling that is, but he had never went into heat himself. Never, _once_ , in his long life. He had been in a few courtship battles, but none had been fruitful for him. He had all but given up honestly. Some mechs … never got one he supposed, their cycle so long they deactivated first.

Flopping back onto his berth, venting loudly, the aging mech covered his optics with his hand.

No, he had made the right choice. Blurr obviously was too young to be forced into a heat. He probably didn't even have his valve popped yet. Salvage though … he had refused the suppressant. His excuse being that they were too hard to make to be wasted on a _what if._ He wasn't going to waste one if he really didn't need it.

Despite himself, High Tide felt a small ray of hope. There was always the tugboat instead. He wasn't the most comely of mechs on the planet, but his armor was naturally thick. A good characteristic for sparklings given the war they were in. Not that he was holding out much hope. Salvage seemed knowledgeable about heat cycles with the way he was helping administer Blurr's doses. He had even asked High Tide if he needed help administering his own. He had almost laughed at that … he had never taken a suppressant in his life.

Nonetheless, Salvage seemed to know his cycles so he was an unlikely possibility.

Chastising himself for such selfish thoughts, telling himself to rub some rust in that old wound and get over, the war veteran rose to his peds and decided to go on deck. He could get some salty air in his vents and then maybe go for a swim to clear his helm. He needed to get over this. He was never going to have a sparkling as a sire or as a carrier. It was never going to happen. The war was still ongoing and he wasn't getting any younger.

He had to accept it.

He had to accept he would be nothing but a teacher. He would never be a creator and perhaps that was for the best. He was never the warmest of sparks. Maybe he wasn't cut out for sparklings.

Walking to the deck, enjoying the feel of the cool air on his oddly warm armor, he stalled in surprise as he watched something pop up in the distance, lights bobbing on the water. It seemed to be nothing more than a light reflecting off the water until he heard the roar of an engine. Was that a rescue boat? A red one? Ah yes, yes it was. Sweet Primus what did _he_ want this time of night? Was the island on fire and he needed the big guns? No, the island seemed pretty quiet in the distance. Well, in that case, the stupid orange one probably got stuck in a tree. Really, how did those four get anything done?

Walking to the edge of the deck, kicking a rope ladder down, he watched as the red rescue vehicle transformed and stiffly made his way up to the deck.

“What the frag you doing here, cabin boy? Its the middle of the fraggen night cycle. The copter lose himself at sea or something?” gruffly joked the older mech as Heatwave stumbled onto deck. He chuckled at the joke himself, expecting the young hot head to pull his plating close and get defensive before leaving the ship in a huff. It was honestly amusing. He really did love getting under young mechs plating.

Surprisingly, the young mech did the opposite. If anything, he seemed happy to see High Tide. He even did this lazy smile.

Now that was odd.

Staring for a moment, wondering if the young mech had a virus or something, High Tide drew closer. Only to draw back with a cringe when the fire-bot leaned forward and ... tried to _smell_ him. In fact, the mech's optics looked hazy like he wasn't registering exactly what was going on.

Plating pulling close, part of the sea-mech now wondering what kind of virus was crawling through the kid's systems, High Tide nearly started when heard the young mech's fans turn on. A second later, the smell of a hot engine hit him. He knew that scent all to well. He had carried that scent a few times himself. The scent was like the mech was reacting to a heat cycle. Or more accurately, Heatwave was in a sire-haze.

A haze was a mental state mechs went into in order to participate in a courtship battle. They and any other mech healthy enough to be a challenger gave off the scent to try and get the in-heat mech's attention before battle and to also tell who they were supposed to fight. After all, mechs that still were nursing and immature younglings had to be separated from the cluster. Basically, if you weren't giving off a scent, you were of little concern. Plus, it also gave a heated mech the chance to choose before a courtship battle if they were still able minded enough to do so.

Space barnacles! Had Blurr been in heat long enough to push Heatwave over the edge or had the scent merely been carried on the wind and inland, activating the sire programming. Heatwave was now ready to fight … if there were any challengers.

Plating feeling tight, High Tide growled. Well, there wasn't going to be a courtship battle and certainly not on _his_ ship! After all, Blurr was no longer giving off those low pheromones. Heatwave's systems would probably notice in a few groons, mind you, but the damage was already done. If there was no courtship battle, or at least the scent of a bred mech, Heatwave himself would probably be forced into his own heat cycle. Like the saying went … heat cycles always happened in twos. After all, it was not uncommon that after a courtship battle, for one if not a few of the mechs that lost, to fall into their own heats even with inhibitors or suppressants. Their bodies were primed for breeding after all. If unfulfilled, nutrients would move from their nanite chamber to their protoform and gestation chamber. They just weren't going to get out of it.

Frowning, watching Heatwave sniff the air, Hide Tide weighed his options. He could just let the haze fade and see what happened. If Heatwave did go into full fledged heat cycle, he could try a few vials of heat suppressant and see if it pressed off the programming. Then again, what if it didn't? Heatwave was about the same age, mentally, as Blurr, if a little older. Just because his spark was technically old enough to carry, given his time in stasis, didn't mean the mech was mentally ready. He would hate to force any young mech through a carrying if he didn't have to.

That left a second option, one that made High Tide's valve rippled slightly at the thought. He could, in essence, trick a hazed mech into thinking it had been with a heated mech. All he had to do was allow Heatwave to take his valve.

His valve rippled at the thought again, the system pinging at him and asking it if should come online. The older mech's fans even kicked on … gaining the full attention of the primed sire-mech. Heatwave's armor plating even perked up. It almost looked ridiculous for a smaller mech to be presenting himself in such a way, armor splayed out, but it was kind of … adorable.

Frag, it had been a while.

Nonetheless, he felt the second option was the best for Heatwave. A young-bot like that wasn't ready for the responsibility of a sparking and the rest of the rescue bots certainly weren't prepared for a courtship battle if this dragged out. Which, knowing Heatwave's stubbornness, it would.

Coming forward, noting that Heatwave's full attention was now on him, optics bright and wanting, High Tide reached forward and slowly took one of Heatwave's hands into his. When the mech didn't pull away or growl at him, he carefully petted the arm for a moment before he guided said hand to his heating cod piece. Well, it was now or never. He wasn't getting any younger.

Decision made, High Tide pressed that servo again his cod piece. The red servo almost felt freezing against his hot plating and he actually grunted in surprise. Frag, this was really turning him on, wasn't it? Displaying his plating in an invitingly manner like an in heat mech would, he allowed his EM field to press outward and intermingling with Heatwave's searching field. He then slid his cod piece to the side, his now online valve seeming to sizzle when it was greeted by the night air. Finally, looking behind himself, knowing all to well that two mechs in the lower decks were recharging, the sea-mech initiated his choice. He'd take his chances of being caught publicly fragging.

Using both hands, he bent Heatwave's digits until only one thick finger was rolled upward. A bit embarrassed that his valve was already feeling wet and slick, High Tide slowly pressed the red servo between his legs, he even bucked a few times in surprise at how sensitive his equipment was. Then, fans clicking on, he told himself to calm down before hungrily guiding said red finger towards his bared valve. A nano-klick later the thick digit was poking at his valve rim a few times as the older mech tried to position it just right.

Heatwave, still in a confused haze, merely seemed lost like he didn't completely understand what was going on. It was like he didn't recognize this was a valve without the correct pheromones. That is … until High Tide finally pressed that digit into his heating hole, his valve squelching almost obscenely as the thick finger penetrated him.

The older mech couldn't help but moan instantly, a hand coming forward and placing itself on Heatwave's shoulder to keep himself standing. Frag, he was so wet and t-tight. That lone finger almost felt lewdly big inside of him. It really had been a while.

Gasping at the feel, the older mech bucked a few times to try and get a rise out of the hazed mech. He was glad to see those dull optics suddenly go bright as if in realization. Then, before he could even yip, Hide Tide found himself being slammed onto the deck, a growl escaping Heatwave as the mech spread his blue thighs and suddenly pressed his face and nose ridge right into High Tide's interface equipment, smelling it deeply. This was normal for a hazed mech when chosen, especially if they were about to prepare to mate. Usually, this was followed by the licking of a bared valve to taste and gather the health of the mech below them. Basically, a hazed mech wanted to see how many nanties needed to be pushed into the gestation chamber.

High Tide, fans now running hot and optics dull in pleasure, lifted himself up onto his elbows. He didn't want to miss this … he didn't want to miss Heatwave eating him out.

Slowly, still smelling him, Heatwave lowered his head completely between those blue thighs. He then buried his mouth component hungrily into a wanting valve, his jaw spreading those blue, soft valve lips.

Beside himself, High Tide actually choke-moaned at the feel of that usually-sarcastic mouth nibbling and sucking at his now sensitive equipment. Soon, the red mech was licking at his folds and valve, nipping and possessively growling. He was even pressing his head hard into the equipment, butting into the larger mech slightly to trying and get his glossa in deeper.

High Tide couldn't even keep up on his elbows for more that a klick once the glossa penetration started. He was falling onto the deck, back strut ridged as his fingers clawed the ship's surface.

 _Of frag, oh frag, of frag._ Dazed mech's were intense. _Frag_ , he was sucking at his valve now as if tasting him, drinking him up. There was also this possessive grip on High Tide's thighs, widening him further. The older mech, despite himself, dared to look between his thighs and the mech there. Heatwave surprisingly met his gaze in a hungry manner, optics so bright they were lighting up the night. Seeing this, High Tide couldn't help but let his helm fall back with a choke- _whine_. Frag, that was erotic. He never thought he would like being manhandled, but he was sure he was going to come before the fire-truck even pressed his girth into him. His valve was so overcome with anticipation that he couldn't even pop his spike up … not that he needed it, but a good blow job would have been nice.

Then again, in heat mechs couldn't pop their spike up. It was probably best not to confuse the hazed mech.

“S-sweet Primus, kid. Y-you're going to cover my deck in lubricants, aren't you?” moaned the older mech, legs now shaking as Heatwave pressed his mouth plates back into the heating valve, a growl vibrating against the hot equipment. High Tide was barely allowed a complaint before that glossa was back inside him, trying to press deeper and deeper, a mixture of oral fluid and lubricant now slathering down the larger mech's blue aft.

Mouth butting into his valve, hips slapping up every nano-click in possessive determination, the dazed mech's intensity was finally too much. High Tide tightened, valve clenching, hand's scrambling for the helm between his legs, he pushed that fire-hat down and hard against his buzzing and rippling equipment. Heatwave, as if knowing he was about to tip the older mech over the edge, didn't even complain. He just lapped harder at the squeezing valve's capillaries, trying to excite node and node. A klik later a gurgle-whine echoed over the deck as High Tide bucked upward, his valve exploding in pleasure, electricity running up his spinal strut. lubricant was even flowing out of him and finally into an eager jaw as High Tide grasped desperately at the little sire-mech's shoulder's and helm.

Then, bliss rippling through his body, High Tide collapsed back onto the deck, blinking his optics on and off in elation. It wasn't a hard overload, but he was surprised that he was sensitive enough to come that fast. P-primus he was probably going to offline when the younger mech actually started fragging him.

Panting, legs shaking as Heatwave kept a possessive grip on his thighs, High Tide just laid there and tired to vent. It was almost maddening though, the red mech hadn't even slowed down. He was still tasting him, his jaw likely slathered in fluids now. Not that he should be surprised. Hazed mechs were notorious for being insatiable. They had to please an in-heat mech after all and fill their gestation tank.

Whining, feeling the charge starting to grow again as that glossa waggled inside him, High Tide moaned at the thought of being fragged into a nearly unconscious state. He'd probably be fragged until the sun rose, maybe even longer if the haze didn't think it was pleasing its chosen mate. Which, given he wasn't a carrier in heat, might happen. He didn't have the pheromones to tell his sire-mech when his gestation tank was full after all.

High Tide offlined his optics at the thought of Blurr or Salvage coming up on deck, mouths gaping as they watched Heatwave frag his unconscious or nearly unconscious form as the sun rose. Sweet Primus, he needed to get this to his berth now and shut the door. Sure, they probably would hear him cry out as he had his CPU fragged out, but at least he would have a closed door to keep prying optics away. Why had he even thought this could be done quietly? He was bound to cry out at some point. It was honestly surprising that the firetruck's possessive growling hadn't waken some-bot yet.

Whining, trying to pull his legs away so he could try and stand (or at least crawl at this point) to his suite, the blue mech found himself being dragged back. Heatwave wasn't going to have any of that. In fact, seeming to think his mate was trying to reject him, the red rescue bot was now crawling up on top him, chassis now rubbing again each other. The young mech was starting to settle between his thighs, fingers roughly rubbing at whatever seams they could get in between, taunting the protoform underneath.

Well, this was going to happen right here, right now, wasn't it?

Panting, lying there in a pleased mess, valve throbbing happily yet wantingly, High Tide noticed that Heatwave was now looking down at him in a famished way. The firetruck was going to pound him into the deck, wasn't he? He was going to make him moan like a whore-bot and maybe even cry out for any-bot to run and check on.

His valve throbbed at the thought of mechs watching him being taken, but his pride wouldn't allow him to be ravaged on the deck like a cyber-beast. Not that he could even put up a protest. He had started this and now Heatwave was going to finish it. The young mech was now ravaging his mouth, kissing him deeply. High Tide didn't even know when he opened his mouth, but their glossas battled as broad fingers poked between his thighs, Heatwave messily trying to press his digits into him.

Soon, one of those thick digits was slipping inside High Tide and though one finger was almost perfect, taunting those wetting valve walls, another finger was already pressing into him. That second finger was almost cruel with how it teased the valve's rim, trying to spread the older mech's walls some before taking him.

Valve pinching at Heatwave's rushed struggle to stretch him, the second finger finally slipping inside. The blue mech couldn't help but bleat out into the younger mechs hungry mouth that was eating at his own. His legs even instinctively kicked out, his underused valve throbbing at the new girth slowly scissoring his inner walls. Frag, this was going to happen _right now_ and he was nowhere near ready, but apparently his wish to move elsewhere had prompted the hazed mech into action. The fingers, their job rushed but seemingly done, were now moving away from his valve, trailing lubricant up High Tide's belly as they pressed at seams there. That hungry mouth was now moving down to his neck cables as the young mech positioned himself for entry, a hard spike slapping at High Tide's thighs.

Moaning, helm falling back, High Tide tried to make himself comfortable, opening his thighs further while he grasped onto the slightly smaller mech's back.

Heatwave, as if understanding the surrender, roared his engine in appeasement. He then slowly started to lower his hips, the spike's tip poking at inner thighs until it finally was guided into the valve's folds and rim.

High Tide whined at the feel of it, grasping tighter to his little buck as Heatwave slowly sheaved himself into him, grunting with a deep and hearty moan as he painstakingly seated himself fully into the older bot. Beside himself, feeling stretched too far for his underused port, High Tide's engine whined as his fans sputtered. His legs even kicked out in agony, scraping at the deck as his blue servos scrambled for purchase on Heatwave's broad red shoulders.

It really had been entirely too long since he had allowed anyone inside him. He would never admit it, but he had become somewhat enraged towards his valve for never allowing him a carrier-heat. He ignored it even on a good vorn. Offlining his optics, a single coolant tear slipping down his cheek, High Tide almost prayed that Heatwave would ravaged his tight valve, fragging it raw in punishment for its uselessness.

Heatwave, even in his haze, was not such a thoughtless lover. He, in turn, whined back vocally to the slightly larger mech's engine, remaining still despite his want to breed and fill that chamber with his hot seed. After all, he did not want to hurt his breeding partner. And so they remained that way on the deck, still, cool salty air pouring over their plating like rain as the underused valve slowly adjusted, fans panting and whining to each other.

Then, when High Tide's grip slowly loosened and his vents stopped stuttering, Heatwave set to work. He started to rock into the older mech, just holding the larger frame to himself, careful and almost thoughtful despite his haze. Then, when the pained little gasps of invents became little vocal whimpers of growing pleasure, High Tide finally moaning into the fire-bot's audio, did Heatwave pick up his rocking with little shallow thrusts testing the valve's flexibility.

High Tide, optics rolling into the back of his helm, completely gave in. He didn't care if all of the rescue bots were watching, he started to meet those shallow thrusts, vocals slowly returning as he bid the sire-mech harder. “T-that's it little buck, c-coax it out of me. M-make me wither little buck … unnggggggg.”

Heatwave, if he understood the words or not, seemed more than happy to oblige, his thrusts getting a little more heated and harder, trying to press deeply into his partner. High Tide, the sting of his usually unused valve now mostly forgotten, found himself wrapping one leg around the red mech's back as one spare hand hand found its way to Heatwave's aft, grasping onto it as he kneened. The pace was really picking up, spike almost painfully pounding into that tight valve like a jackhammer.

Heatwave was soon to spill his first load into him.

The pace fast and jaunting, the audible ring of metallic thighs slamming into each other little an erratic drum, High Tide tried to meet the spike that was deeply pushing into his folds, the hard rod spreading him and taunting his inner lining and nodes. He was throbbing at this point, valve trying to pull the hard metal deeper and deeper into him. He wanted it. He really wanted those nanites to spill into him, staining his insides. He wanted his valve to ripple in release, pulling that hot metal as deep as it could go.

“Ughhhh … Mmmhhh. Fffff-frag. T-that's it, young b-buck. Spill-spill into me. Pound me. T-take my valve and m-make me come,” whined High Tide as he gripped that red aft tighter, valve rippling and growing closer and closer to overload as that fat spike pressed deeper and deeper into him like a hungry worm. “C-come on, cabin boy. P-pound into me. P-please, kid.”

Spike starting to inflate, filling with its load, Heatwave pounded harder, spike now sheathing itself completely with each deep thrust. He even growled as he adjusted himself, spike nearly pulling out completely before slamming back down roughly into that blue valve. He was trying to get in as deep as possible before immediately pulling back out, fluid dripping between both of their thighs. High Tide just offered dry cry after dry cry with each forceful reentry, death grip on his little mate as he encourage him onward.

“Guh, uh, uhH! P-please. Uhh, mmhh! Please!”

Then, Heatwave pushing in deep and stalling there with a grunt, the two of them fell over. High Tide even went stock still and silent, optics going bright as his mouth opened in a silent scream. He fell over the edge … just as Heatwave spilled inside him, hot load splattered into the older mech's insides as the hazed mech roared in his first release. High Tide, the pleasure too much, was knocked offline … his spark hammering in bliss.

…

The world was rocking back and forth. Not unpleasantly so. In fact, it was a welcomed feeling. It was like the ocean. It soothed his gyros and inner workings with its sway. In fact, he felt like part of the ocean was now inside him, rising to and fro with the waves. There was liquid inside him now, in his belly … warm and hot and _pleasurable_.

High Tide, coming back online, barely had time to invent as he felt something stab deep between his legs and suddenly spill into him. Onlining his optics, he blinked a few times as he looked up at a panting Heatwave, the mech's mouth open as he whined and choked slightly, EM field rippling in ecstasy.

Onlining and offlining his optics again, High Tide tried to remember what was going on. Then, like a wrecking ball had hit him, he arched off the deck in pleasure. He finally remembered what was going on. Heatwave had gone into a haze and he had decided to deal with it. And the heat, the hot little ocean forming in his lower abdomen, was from how many times Heatwave had apparently spilled into him.

P-pit, sweet Primus, how long had he been offline for Heatwave to f-fill him like this?

Moaning slightly, shifting his legs and feeling a slight soreness in between his thighs from the constant thickness pounding inside his valve, he twitched as a large amount of nanites and lubricant dribbled down his aft. Heatwave, slowly collapsing on top of him and merely panted for a moment. His servo still gripping one of High Tide's legs possessively though as if to keep the older mech in place even though his spike was semi-soft now. Heatwave and High Tide both knew that proud steel wouldn't be soft for long though. Heatwave's nanite tank was likely refilling at this very moment, readying the sire-mech for the next bout of haze induced fragging.

Heavy battle armor clamping shut and then loosening at the thought of being filled to the brim until he was whining at the pleasurable agony of it, the older mech knew this was going to be his only chance to get off the deck and keep a little of both of their dignity. Yes, they might dribble nanites, energon and lubricant all the way to High Tide's suite, but Primus' backside no one was going to see their overindulged equipment if he had anything to say about it.

Slowly sitting up despite the whining of his aging gears and his sire-mech's kisses to his higher chassis that were basically begging him to remain still until the next round, High Tide sat up and looked down at the slightly smaller mech that was clinging to him. He couldn't help but twitch at the way Heatwave pawed at his belly, the hot seed inside him sloshing slightly. Heatwave really was trying to put a sparkling in him.

High Tide almost looked away in shame … knowing he would never carry such a blessing.

Shaking off his disappointment, he shifted again, returning one of Heatwave's sloppy kisses before pulling away.

“Frag cabin boy. You nearly fragged the CPU outta this old seaman,” chuckled the blue mech in a tired and almost sad tone, hating himself even more for his valve's uselessness. “Come now, lets not get landlocked here. Gotta keep some of our pride, hmm? To a berth.”

It was a bit of a struggle, Heatwave trying to push him back down the whole time to try and get between his paint-stained thighs, his spike nearly hard again, but the larger mech would have none of that. He managed to use the weight of his heavy battle armor to overpower the hazed mech long enough to get both of them to their feet. He knew, undoubtedly, if Heatwave was in full battle armor, he wouldn't have been able to pull off such a feat, but luckily he only had mid-grade armor as was the norm given the time period Heatwave went into stasis.

Leading a whining sire-mech down into the bowels of his ship, the older mech was only a few yards from his suite when Heatwave growled and almost violently pushed him against a wall. High Tide barely had time to gasp when one of his legs was lifted up, Heatwave sliding between his thighs. He could only whine as he felt that stout little spike poke at his inner thighs as he tried to reenter him.

“C-come on kid. J-just a few more yards. We are almost -guhhhh,” choked the larger mech as that plump spike finally hit home, Heatwave almost pulling High Tide's knee from under him in order to get him low enough to enter.

Growling in satisfaction as High Tide tried to gather himself once more, Heatwave pinned the larger mech against the wall and started once again at a fair pace. He growled for a klik more as High Tide tried to squirm away. Only when High Tide relented did the hazed mech stop growling possessively. In fact, his engine purred a nano-klik later as the blue mech vented in renewed pleasure.Happy with development, Heatwave went back to nibbling the other's neck cabling, pressing their chassis together intimately. High Tide could almost feel the other spark reaching up for his, electricity snapping at each other's armor.

It seemed they were building a charge.

“P-pprimus,” whined the large mech, his helm pressing against the wall as he vented, biting his lip component to keep from crying out at the sudden invasion. The two recruits were down one level after all. He did not want them running up here and around the corner to merely see him getting fragged against the wall.

Closing his mouth while whining, High Tide watched as Heatwave panted openly, grunting with each powerful thrust into his valve. Offlining his optics, he leaned fully against the wall and panted openly through his mouth, praying to Primus that his venting wasn't as loud as he thought. Luckily, Heatwave seemed to have figured out what High Tide's hot spots were while he was offline. It seemed like every upward thrust was hitting all the perfect nodes making the mech's vents hitch with every powerful reentry. Before High Tide knew what was happening, he was all but clinging to his smaller lover, nearly weeping at the pleasure of it. He had never come this fast by valve before and here Heatwave was, goading another overload out of him like a cheep whore-bot.

All it took were a few more rushed thrusts upwards and High Tide came. Cleanser even gathered in the corner of his optics as he offlined them and enjoyed the rippling of his valve and the warmth of his gestation chamber. Heatwave came a klik later, spilling even more hot seed into him.

The two panting for a moment against the wall, paint exchanges likely staining the wall's surface. High Tide could already feel his little lover's half hard spike getting completely hard again.

Feeling slightly bad about this, the blue mech reached down into one of the red mech's hip seams and promptly pinched a wire. Heatwave, in surprise, released the blue leg he had been holding up, causing them both to fall to the ground in a collection of limbs. Then, struggling to get to his peds, so exhausted he actually swayed and almost fell over, High Tide leaned against the wall.

F-frag he was _dizzy_.

Shaking it off, he started to stumble towards his room regardless. He had barely gotten the door open when Heatwave was upon him again. He didn't even fight the young mech's kisses or dominant clutching as he was overcome by a striking EM field. His only struggled was to kick the door shut before he allowed the hazed mech to press against him. He didn't even struggle as Heatwave manhandled him and pushed him onto the berth, growling like a needy thing as his stout yet surprisingly thick spike slapped against High Tide's inner thighs.

Moaning in surrender and partially in exhaustion, the soldier allowed the smaller mech to press him roughly to his berth, pinning him.

Venting, exhausted already from the multiple overloads, the blue mech allowed himself to be held down as he spread his thighs in surrender. Heatwave, as if sensing High Tide wasn't going to try and get away again, loosened his grip slightly. This allowed the blue mech to try and situate himself on his berth fully so he would be comfortable for the continued fragging. He really wasn't that young of a bot anymore, but he promised himself that he was going to at least enjoy this before he was knocked offline again.

“Come on young buck,” murmured the older bot as the rescue bot purred and settle between his legs, fingering his valve for a moment before using the same hand to guide his spike back into a wanting valve. He sheaved himself a nano-klik later with a grunt that left High Tide moaning before he grabbed onto the younger bot's back. He could practically feel the nanites swishing inside his gestation tank as Heatwave made quick work of his valve, rocking back and forth like an angry ocean.

Optics blinking off and on, exhaustion hitting him hard, High Tide tried to meet each thrust, moaning openly. He didn't really care of the newest recruits heard his cries of pleasure now or Heatwave's deep clanging thrusts. They would likely find the sticky mess all over the walls and floor tomorrow anyway. So perhaps it was best not to surprise them about the coming disorder. And so he gasped and whined and moaned in abandon, his body too hot, his valve too tight, his chamber too heavy until Heatwave finally came inside him again, seeming to spill forever. High Tide followed after a moment later when he felt the nanites spill out of his valve, capillaries clamping down and nodes alighting like fire.

High Tide almost wept at this point, painfully exhausted especially when his lower internals seemed to bugle distressingly. It was then that a realization hit the old mech. F-frag, had Heatwave already filled him? No wonder he felt so heavy going down the stairs. He was full. Fraggen full with the other bot's nanties. Not that Heatwave would know that. High Tide didn't have the pheromones to tell his sire-mech that he was ready for an interface lock to finalize the breeding. Not that he could lock their equipment together anyway given he wasn't really in heat. In fact, the smaller sire-mech was likely going to fuck him into a stupor.

W-wait? _Stupor_?

Why had he called it that? He wasn't in heat. He couldn't actually fall into a stupor. And yet, as if to prove him wrong, something suddenly blinked to life on his HUD. It was a status report telling him his gestation chamber was full … and that his equipment was preparing itself for a lock and energy exchange.

_What?_

No, there was no way. Was he … was he actually going into a real heat-stupor, but he didn't have any of the symptoms. He hadn't started overheating and his protoform hadn't started to swell with nutrients and he hadn't … no, _wait_. He had had those symptoms, hadn't he? He had just thought they were age or -

High Tide didn't get to finish that thought as Heatwave suddenly slammed deep into him, making him gasp as his valve overflowed and oozed out nanites … their equipment locking together a second later with a heavy click that made High Tide shiver. Equipment only locked like that when a mech was prepared to carry, gestation chamber full. Now all it needed was a spark of life. Bondmates would open their spark chambers at this time and share sparks, but a heated pair would send pulses all the way from the spark chamber down into their equipment. This charge would excite the nanites into building a small spark chamber and the rest of energy would hopefully meld together enough to make a small spark to house in said chamber.

Grabbing Heatwave's hips as if trying to test the lock or get away, High Tide's optics widened. _Unicron's beard_. They really were locked together. This was really happening. Heatwave was breeding him and they were about to try and … make a spark inside him.

The larger mech didn't even have time to be terrified at the thought of actually carrying when he fell back into the berth with a whine, the first pulse traveling down Heatwave's systems, into his spike and right into the metal of High Tide's valve and chamber. He squirmed and arched at the small current, hips bucking slightly as he road out the pleasurable current.

He didn't know how long he squirmed and arched under the smaller bot, but when the current finally ended they were both panting. High Tide, once again able to think, tried to vent normally. He was in heat. _He was in heat!_ Frag, he was really in heat! He had likely caused Blurr's heat actually given racers had fast heats and Salvage … no wonder he seemed confused when High Tide had rejected the suppressant. He had probably known High Tide was going into heat the whole time … which was probably why he hadn't taken a suppressant in turn! Fragger probably thought High Tide wanted a courtship battle!

Huh, with that heavy armor Salvage might have even won.

High Tide might have taken the time to be enraged or impressed at the large mech's observation when he was suddenly grasping at his little lover again, another jolt even bigger than the last one causing him to cry out and thrash below the sire-mech, spark-electricity seemed to eat every circuit.

It felt like kliks later until the wave ended, Heatwave groaning in exhaustion as he laid down on top of his mate, readying himself of the next exhausting wave. High Tide merely held the other. He wasn't surprised that the rescue bot was getting tired. Heatwave, in essence, was doing all the work here. It was his charge that had to travel all the way down his systems and into another bot after all.

Covering his optics with one hand, cringing in anticipation and yet wanting another charge to be pressed into him, High Tide tried to ready himself for the next energy exchange. Heatwave's engine had started to rev again as he tried to collect energy for the next wave. High Tide merely petted the sire-mech's back in a comforting manner, encouraging him. He still couldn't believe this was really happening. He had gone into _heat_. His valve wasn't useless. H-he might be able to have one … a sparkling.

Heatwave, engine now whining, was now ready to send another burst into the heated mech. A big charge if the ozone in the air was any indication.

Optics gathering coolant and slowly streaming down his face, High Tide found himself whispering encouragement to the sire-mech. He even wrapping his arms tighter around his chosen mate, burying his head into the other's neck. He even dared whispered what he had always wanted … something he had probably accidentally missed out on multiple times due to fighting in a courtship battle instead of waiting it out for his own heat. It was but a whisper, but he was sure Heatwave, even in his haze, heard him.

“Give me a life to carry, firetruck.”

Heatwave, engine roaring, thrust deeper into the locked valve and threw his charge into the blue mech's valve. It was so dense and intense that High Tide actually _screeched_ , vocals nearly shorting out as he withered like a dying mech while trying to hold onto his sire-mech. It felt like every circuit was on fire, his spark singing and trying to answer the charge back. It was so intense it was almost agony. Heatwave must have felt the same way because he collapsed fully on top of the screaming carrier, crying out as well.

This time … it took him nearly ten kliks to online his optics. He had nearly offlined from the intensity of the charge. Not that he should be surprised. Heatwave was a young mech and his spark still had a high charge. He would be surprised … if he didn't end up heavy.

Moaning, smelling the charged air, High Tide watched helplessly as system after system started to go offline, his HUD slowly going dark. He chuckled darkly to himself. R-usty salt water. This was actually happening. He was locked into another mech, gestation chamber full and his systems going offline. He was going to go into a stupor now. The stupor would keep him offline for a full orn at least. It was a crucial part of a heat in case a mech got sparked. It was that vital time when a sparkling's most delicate systems cobbled together. Transforming or much of any movement could hurt those systems, snuff out the sparklet or even detach the sparkling's protoform from the energon lines it was trying to grow into. A carrier mech would be entirely helpless at this time and was completely the mercy and care of the sire-mech that fragged him.

Beside himself, the large mech laugh-sobbed, more tears streaming down his face. He clutched to the red bot desperately and sobbed a little harder. He was terrified now, even more so than when he was on a battlefield. What if he did just make a little life? What if he _hadn't_? Would he get another chance?

Feeling Heatwave shift against him, equipment still locked, he held the smaller mech close. He then buried the smaller mech's helm under his chin and allowed his EM field to radiate thankfulness.

Even though he was obviously falling into recharge, exhausted from his hard work, the hazed mech answer back with an EM burst. He was glad to assist. And slowly, ever so slowly, the two mechs fell into slumber in each others arms. The chance of a little life, a possibility, budding between them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> First off … I don't regret that title. Not … one … bit. :P
> 
> I'm totally going to robot hell for this. XD
> 
> At least Unicron will be there with his magnificent beard. 
> 
> Regardless, I could never pull off High Tide's accent. Nope, never, I live in the Midwest. I've seen the ocean like once. Nonetheless, I tried my best. Beside that, I think this is my first in-heat mech fic. Of all the smut I have written, I am quite surprised this is my first. Personally, I blame SlimReaper and her fic 'The Chemicals Between Us' for this. Its a great fic by the way, full of angst and a fun heat theory. I particularly loved the courtship fight detail. 
> 
> Anyway, I might add more to this if there's enough interest, but for now its a oneshot.


End file.
